


honey, i laugh when it sinks in

by shiv_roy



Category: DCU
Genre: Anal Sex, Established Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:15:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26932717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shiv_roy/pseuds/shiv_roy
Summary: Clark makes Bruce stay at home for a Justice League meeting over a sprain. Bruce gets revenge.
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 4
Kudos: 185





	honey, i laugh when it sinks in

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nightwingstan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightwingstan/gifts).



> This is for Magic because I sent them a superman tiktok and we got talking and this happened. Ily! <3 Title from Dinner and Diatribes by Hozier and Magic came up with it.
> 
> Edited, but feel free to point out any typos if there's any.

Bruce rests his swollen ankle on a cushion and takes a sip of his coffee, plugging his comm in. He opens a secure League channel. Diana is on the other end.

"Can you hear us Batman?" she asks.

"Yes," Bruce says in his patented Batman growl. He has to suppress a groan as a light pain tinges along the sprained ankle. He scowls to himself. He's so tired, and frustrated. Mostly because Clark made him stay at home for something as silly as a sprained ankle. He mutes the comm and tests it by insulting Hal Jordan out loud. No response as Diana starts her opening statements. He groans out loud then, and slumps down on the soft bedding before picking himself up and dragging his laptop over. He opens the secure server link for Watchtower security footage and sees everyone seated in the room as usual. Clark is studiously reading his report, making notes here and there. Bruce smiles to himself.

It's the perfect time for revenge. He only has to sigh and let himself go, little by little. He tunes out Diana's mission report and closes his eyes. He doesn't have to think of Clark for longer than a minute before heat starts pooling in his belly and his cock twitches with interest. He opens his eyes and smirks at Clark in security footage on his laptop. He gets harder at the sight of his pretty, pretty boyfriend, taking notes for Bruce because he knows he prefers them written. He grinds the heel of his hand against his crotch, the silky material of the pajama bottoms sliding along his stiffening cock smoothly. Then he lets himself moan at the slight friction he's allowed himself.

There's no visible reaction from Clark, which annoys Bruce. There are only a few people whose heartbeats Clark keeps track of, subconsciously, and Clark had once sheepishly admitted that Bruce was one of them. So Bruce sets the laptop beside him on the bed and yanks his pants down in a smooth motion. He grips his cock, imagining Clark's hand there instead of his own, and strokes slowly.

"Clark," he breathes, "I miss you, honey." On the screen, Clark looks up, as if confused, and eyes the speaker and mic set up at Bruce's usual place on the table.

"Did I disturb you?" Bruce says, smiling to himself. "I know you were taking notes for me. Such a good boyfriend. I don't care though. I just wish your hand was on my dick right now." Bruce thanks himself for installing high quality cameras because he can see Clark's neck turning red as he shifts around in his chair and throws cautious glances around the room. 

"You know what I'm thinking about?" Bruce muses. "You on your knees, gagging on my cock. You look so pretty that way, always taking whatever you can get. Getting spit all over because you can't get enough." Bruce brings his hand to a still, and reaches over to the bedside drawer to get lube.

"Do you want it doll? Do you want me to fuck your mouth? Drop that pen you're holding if you do."

Clark is fully pink in the face. Slowly, deliberately, his hand inches away from the paper and the pen drops to the floor with a resounding click.

"Sorry," Bruce hears him say over the comms, and smirks.

"You sound so hoarse. Not as much as you do when you fuck me though," Bruce says, adjusting the pillow under his leg and sitting up. "And your voice, oh God. I love it when it's so deep, because of me. I love it when you beg me and I love it when you make me beg with it."

His cock bounces against his stomach and leaves wet marks there. Bruce wonders if Clark can hear it. He slowly uncaps the lube and rubs it on two fingers, getting it warm. Then he spreads his legs and throws his neck back before pressing one finger against his hole. The first stretch always hurts, and Bruce groans loudly.

"I wish it were your fingers inside me right now Clark," he murmurs, starting to finger himself slowly. His breaths start coming quicker and he wraps his second hand around his cock, swiping at the head the way Clark does to himself. "Your hands are so good, baby." On the screen, Clark's face has gone from blush pink to tomato red. It looks like he's crossed his leg over the other.

"You're hard for me," Bruce states, smirk painted over his words. "Good. I want them to know. The fucking Superman got hard because he was listening to his boyfriend fuck himself in a Justice League meeting. You could stand up right now and everyone would see, Clark, how hard you are for me. That suit of yours is a sin. The other day I almost bent you over on the table and took you right there when your cape got swept to the side."

Bruce slips in another finger. It's easier with the second and he slowly works himself open faster. It's not long before he finds his prostate and lets out the filthiest moan he's capable of. There's a loud, crunching noise on the comms. The report falls silent. Clark has crushed the arm of his chair.

"I- I'm sorry. I'll pay for the damage," he says roughly. "I'm feeling a bit under the weather." Diana gives him a long look before continuing. 

"You won't pay for that," Bruce says lightly. "I will. I'm the reason the chair's broken after all. But I'm sure you, personally, can think of a few ways to make me pay." Clark sits up straight suddenly. Everyone in the room looks at him. "I- uh. I'm not feeling so well today. I'll catch up with this later."

He shoots out of the room at superspeed without even standing, and Bruce lets out a breathy laugh. Clark arrives with a whoosh of curtains, a beet red face, a glare, and a visible tent in his suit. Bruce makes an obvious show of checking him out, top to bottom, leering when his eyes find Clark's bulge.

"You _are_ gonna pay for that," he grits, and Bruce grins. 

"Why?" he shoots back. "I'm resting just like you told me to."

He's undressed and on top of Bruce in under a second, and his cock is already fucking leaking.

"My my," Bruce muses, hand stopping on the base of his dick, panting as fingers still work in his ass. "Did I get my boy's pants dirty?"

Clark's eyes are dark, only a ring of sky blue visible outside his dilated pupils. He firmly takes both of Bruce's arms and pins them over his head. "You won't be needing these tonight."

"You gonna chain me up?" Bruce challenges. Clark smiles handsomely, a lewd gaze sweeping over Bruce's toned, lax body.

"No," he says with his light smirk. "I'm only gonna tell you once: your hands aren't going to slip beneath your head. And you're going to listen."

"Oh really?" Bruce asks, grinning in response. Clark's smile widens and he kisses Bruce's lips gently once. If there's one thing Bruce loves about sex with Clark is the banter, and the smiles they share. A gentle indication that this is for pleasure, not a power struggle.

"Oh yes," Clark says, and removes his hands from Bruce's wrists. "You'll do exactly as I say if you want to come before morning." Bruce swallows thickly and his hands stay exactly the way Clark held them. Clark gives him an appreciative smile before sliding down his body, peppering kisses as he goes by. He looks Bruce in the eye while kissing the tip of his dick and Bruce knows he's going to come to that mental image for years.

Clark finally stops before his dick, one hand squeezing his balls and it feels so good Bruce almost comes right there. Then he places one hand onto each of Bruce's inner thighs and pushes them apart even more, gently. Bruce resists a little, just a little because he can't not. There's also the issue of the tinning pain in his ankle. He grits his teeth but that's all it takes; Clark leans up a little and throws Bruce's thigh over his shoulder. Bruce gasps at the suddenness of it, at the coolness of Clark's back in comparison to the warm covers. He does the same to the other before leaning down to kiss the crease where Bruce's leg meets his hip and kisses down from there, dipping his nose into Bruce's crack, nudging and licking until he finds Bruce's hole.

"It's good that you're prepped already," he whispers. "I can't wait to fuck you right now. I can't wait to wipe that smug smile off your face as you come while screaming my name."

Bruce makes an almost whining sound because the words, Clark's voice and his tongue on Bruce's ass have gone straight to his dick and it's torture to not touch it. He squeezes the headboard hard, trying not let his hands slip.

Clark presses a firm kiss on Bruce's opening before plunging his tongue right in. Bruce pants with pleasure, the hard lining of the headboard digging into his fingers.

"God- God, Clark-," is all he can manage. "Just let- oh Jesus- just let me-," his hands almost snap down to his dick, but they don't and Clark ignores him as he fucks him with his rough, unforgiving tongue, but that just makes Bruce's dick throb harder, all his blood rushing south. Bruce is absolutely writhing by the time Clark looks up and carefully adjusts Bruce's ankles on his shoulders, taking care with the injured one. 

"Lube," he growls, voice gravelly. Bruce can't process words, because all he can think of is how much he wants to jerk his cock off. When it's clear Bruce isn't moving, Clark reaches for it himself and squirts out more than necessary, making filthy, filthy sounds as he attends to his ignored cock.

"Say my name while I fuck you," he grunts. "I want to hear my name in your mouth while I make you come with my cock."

He lines up with quick, precise movements and pulls on Bruce's hips possessively, and Bruce is sure there's going to be marks there tomorrow. He fucks like he has no care for Bruce, (Bruce knows better. His hands are holding back even while digging in Bruce's hips, his stance his supporting Bruce's entire weight.) Clark fucks him so earnestly, like there isn't one other thing on his mind, and Bruce almost sobs when Clark finds his prostate in less than three thrusts. He fucks him with short, quick, practiced snaps of his hips, and Bruce's cock is almost aching with how good it feels. 

"Just- just like that- Kal! Oh my god..." 

Bruce knows Clark didn't expect him to call him Kal, but it sends him into even more of a frenzy. He leans over and kisses Bruce roughly. "Say it again."

"Kal," Bruce pants wetly as Clark kisses up and down his throat, his collar bone, salivating so much it leaves a wet trail all over. "Fuck! Keep- keep goi- Fuck, Kal! I'm there- I'm almost-," Clark has settled into Bruce's ass, hilt deep, his cock pushing into Bruce's prostate. 

"Fuck! Holy fuck," Bruce heaves, panting heavily, voice grating and catching because how dry his throat has gone. One more sharp push-and-pull from Clark and Bruce comes so hard he can't see anything. He sags in Clark's arms as he continues fucking him and feels him pull out just as he comes too. He detaches himself from Bruce's ankles and flops down beside him. They just lie there, unseeing, unspeaking. Bruce's hands are still above his head. He brings them down to discover the mess on his torso. 

"That's both our cum down my front," he says, surprised with how gone his voice sounds. Clark still hasn't come to his senses, because all he says is, "Huh?"

Bruce lets his neck fall back down, blindly hunting for his pajama bottoms and wiping away the stuff. He throws it on the floor and turns to Clark, smiling at the blissed out look on his face. He sneaks an arm below his neck and Clark automatically rests his head on Bruce's chest, settling a hand there too.

"That was good," he mumbles, almost sleepily. Bruce rumbles out a laugh and cards a hand through Clark's curls.

"You liked me calling you Kal." Clark smiles and buries his face in Bruce's chest, cheeks pink.

"Yeah," he whispers, then looks up at Bruce suddenly. "I didn't um, hurt you, did I?"

"No," Bruce says, "Not sure I would've noticed if you had," and laughs at Clark's horrified look. Clark leans up and kisses him right into the smile, as if to shut him up. Bruce doesn't mind.

"I love you," he says. Bruce wraps his arm tighter around Clark.

"I- me too," he replies. "I hope I get to do this with you till I die."

Clark's small laugh is everything in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> leave kudos/comment if u liked


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